East Needs West
by longlivecedric
Summary: AU: In which Dan and Blair were once childhood friends, but now can't stand-or escape-each other.


**AU Notes**: Blair and Dan have known each other since childhood; Rufus used to be the Waldorfs' personal chef and Dan is still their cater-waiter.

Serena and Blair are still BFFs, but Serena didn't sleep with Nate or disappear for a year. The rest should be pretty self-explanatory.

* * *

_North needs south, east needs west  
And no needs yes, yes, yes  
Up needs down, life needs death  
And no needs yes, yes, yes_

_I need you_

_ -Alicia Keys _

* * *

**1.**

In the foyer hung a picture of them when they were eight. Smiling, cheek to cheek, wearing these hideous matching Halloween costumes. (He was Jack; she was Jill). It was the most embarrassing thing in existence and Blair wished more than anything that her mother would take it down.

But, just like Dan Humphrey, it never went away.

* * *

Blair was following Eleanor out of the elevator and into the lobby, when, suddenly, there he was.

Of course.

He was standing there in a plaid shirt and worn hipster shoes and Blair could hardly restrain her look of disdain as her mother greeted him. Blair followed up said greeting with her own hello—a harsh shove into his shoulder as she pushed by him. He let out a disgruntled sound at her dismissal, but Blair could care less. She had better things to do than to be held up by Dan Humphrey.

Like beg, for instance.

"Mother, I have to have this dress."

Dan snorted from behind her. Loudly. She sent him a warning glance before turning back to Eleanor.

"It's a very special occasion," Blair said, "I can't look like a peasant, can I?"

That time she didn't ignore him, yet sent him a nasty look over her mother's shoulder, her eyes sliding pointedly over his dreadful apparel.

Eleanor sighed, dragging Blair's attention back from Dan's scowl. "It's your father's annual fall visit, Blair, not your debutante ball, for god's sake."

"No, because daddy wasn't _there _for the ball."

It was like she could feel Humphrey's gaze on her all of a sudden and her body tensed slightly as she lowered her voice. "Please, mother. It's really important; I wouldn't ask it weren't…_please._"

Eleanor's eyes flickered with consideration, then more than a touch of reluctance, before finally she relented. "Fine."

"Yes! Thank you; thank you!"

Blair squealed. She peppered her mother's cheek with a kiss and began bouncing towards her room (she had to call Serena), when…there he was. Again. In her way, with this stupid, weird smirk on his lips.

"_What_ are you even doing here?" she asked. "Did you come to scrub the floors again, Cinderfellow?"

His face pinched. He hated when she called him that and she knew it. Which was why she did it almost constantly.

"For the last time, I don't clean here…"

She glanced at her nails, the picture of disinterest. "Hmmm?"

"I cater."

"Sounds fascinating," she hummed.

"There's a difference."

"Is there?" She looked back up from her manicure and arched a brow. "You're still waiting on me…correct?"

Dan stiffened, like the perpetual stick up his rear-end had somehow lengthened when her mother interjected.

"Would you two please stop sparring? I already have a headache as it is."

The two exchanged quasi-conciliatory glances, Blair sending him a saccharine sweet smile and Dan offering the driest of looks, before moving on.

"Did you bring the menus?" Eleanor asked him.

Dan nodded and reached into his (exceptionally tacky) messenger bag. Blair was still eyeing it with scorn, when he handed Eleanor a stack of menus.

"Revised and laminated," he said.

Then he did that _thing_ —where his teeth flashed and his eyes lit and he tried to be "charming" or something. Her mother ate it up, but Blair just rolled her eyes for the third time.

"Nice touch, as always, Daniel," said Eleanor.

"Yes, what superb manual labor, _Daniel_," Blair chirped.

Eleanor gasped and she looked as if she was about to admonish Blair, when Dan interjected. "I'm surprised you can even pronounce manual labor."

He smirked at her, offering a self-satisfied glance; yet, Blair shot back at him.

"I can pronounce it in two languages, peasant boy. That doesn't mean I should ever deign to actually perform it. "

"I can pronounce it in _three_."

"Italian does not count. That's, like, the poor man's French."

"_Children_," Eleanor cried.

Blair's head jerked in her mother's direction, where Eleanor was staring back at her with a glare. For a moment she seemed too exasperated to continue. "What is _wrong_ with you? Two of the most educated teenagers I know regress into toddlers around each other…. And you used to be so close…"

She sighed and looked off wistfully towards the foyer and Blair groaned. "Oh, please, don't bring up…"

"That lovely picture," Eleanor said.

She was walking towards it then and both Blair and Dan shifted with discomfort. "You used to be so cute together," Eleanor said with the most obnoxious maternal look on her face. "Remember how you used to always have play dates together?"

"No," they said at once and then glowered at each other.

"And you used to have those adorable nicknames?"

Blair's cheeks flushed. "Mother," she warned.

"What were they?"

"I-I think you must have us confused with someone else," Dan was stammering.

"Yes, yes, Danish and Biscuit," Eleanor said, "Your favorite foods."

Eleanor turned and fawned at them and Blair proceeded to wait for the gods to show mercy and the ground collapse beneath her. It never did. And, she had no earthly idea why her mother stored up all her sentimentality for tormenting her about her childhood dalliances with Dan Humphrey.

Her eyes skittered over to said Humphrey, who also looked as if he were praying from some miraculous exit, before she snapped. "Mother, don't you have, oh, I don't know _anything _else you could be doing?"

Eleanor straightened and sent her an indignant look. "Well, excuse me for enjoying the memories—what with the stark, bratty reality facing me now."

Blair internally groaned.

"I mean, what happened to you two?"

"We _grew up_."

She sent Dan a sharp look and began to move toward her room, trying to conceal her still burning cheeks. She hated talking about this and just wanted to get away. "Now can I leave you two to the delicate nuances of food preparation, so I can order my dress?"

Eleanor's lips thinned. But she simply sent a terse wave of her hand and set her free. "Alright, Blair, but you two can't keep ignoring each other. You'll be going to the same school now, remember?"

"Ugh." Blair made a show of displaying her disgust and Dan's expression changed from sheepishness to its usual agitation. "Don't tell me your pity scholarship came through?"

"Blair," Eleanor said. But, it was tired and quiet, like she was already giving up on trying to end their bickering.

"What?" Dan's straightened. (He was taller than her now, unlike most of their childhood, and he seemed to enjoy emphasizing that.) "Afraid I might show you up?"

Eleanor's back was already facing her as she moved into the next room with a sigh.

"Oh, _yes_," Blair answered, "All of us polished elites are positively trembling over the new Brooklyn ringer."

Dan's eyes narrowed and Blair batted her eyelashes at him.

"I'll be sure to put in a good word for you."

* * *

She didn't put in any word for him, good or bad. Dan Humphrey transferred to her school and she refused to acknowledge it.

When Chuck Bass poured vodka all over him on the third day and Dan's face turned the color of ketchup, her ear twitched. She made sure that the GG blast about the boy Chuck kissed last summer went out that very afternoon.

But that was it.

She wasn't sticking her neck out for him.

* * *

"Isn't that Dan?" Serena asked her one day.

"Oh?" Blair feigned ignorance as she glanced across the courtyard, "Is that him? Hadn't noticed."

Serena's brows rose up on her forehead and she smirked. "What, so you two aren't even acknowledging each other now?"

"I'm sorry, acknowledging whom?"

Blair fixed her with a sarcastic look, fluttering her eyelashes and the blonde rolled her eyes. "Message received."

Serena shook her head in amusement as she pulled out a notebook. "I don't know how I'm going to survive history this year. This class is kicking my ass and taking names." She ran a frustrated hand through her wavy hair. "Why do we even need to know this? Why can't we just, you know, live in the now?"

"Please tell me you're not writing your first term paper on that, S? 'Living in the now'?"

Serena's face scrunched into a sheepish expression. "Well…I was thinking about it… up until three seconds ago."

Blair sent her an incredulous look.

"_What?_ At least I'm actually writing them this year and not just getting high."

"Or you could just be Nate and do both."

Both girls giggled as Blair opened up her own bag.

"Well, not all of us can be as impeccable students as you, Blair."

"Obviously."

She sent Serena a playful smirk and flipped open her notebook. "Speaking of which, our first test grades should be back for Calculus."

"Yeah," Serena said, pointing at her, "Remind me to get out of taking that next year."

"Of course," Blair mumbled. She typed in her passcode. "But, anyway, I'm actually _slightly_ concerned. I mean, it might not be an A plus plus; I was a little distract—_oh my god!"_

Her shrill, piercing cry shot through the courtyard, making Serena nearly spit out her drink and more than a few classmates turn in their direction.

"B," Serena said, "What is it?"

Blair sputtered. "I-I got…I got…"

"What? An STD or something?

"_Worst!_ A 'C'."

Blair spun her laptop around in order to show Serena the incriminating evidence and the blonde inspected the site for a few moments before blinking back up at her.

"Aren't you going to say something?" Blair asked.

"Um…at least it's a C plus?"

Blair groaned dramatically and shoved her face into her hands. "My life is over."

"Oh, B, come on. It's not the end of the world. It's one C on one stupid test for the first time in your entire life. It will be okay."

"It will _not_ be okay."

Blair shut her laptop so swiftly it nearly caught Serena's fingertips. "This is the _first _test. Which means I'm already behind. Which means my grade will get _worse_ throughout the term; not better. Which means I won't get into the Widmore Honor Society; which means I won't get into Yale; which means I might as well just—""

"Start drinking decaf?" Serena interjected.

"Of _course, _you wouldn't get it."

Blair stood with a huff, grabbing her bag and leaving an exasperated Serena in her wake.

* * *

That afternoon, Blair decided to handle the situation like any mature adult would: she had a full-scale meltdown in front of her Calculus teacher. After finally calming herself—and then screaming in the girl's bathroom—she headed to the one place she never thought she'd deign to enter: the tutoring center.

"Oh, great, now I'm remedial," she moaned to Serena as they entered the corridor.

(They'd made up after Serena had found her throwing her second temper tantrum in the girls' room).

"Blair, please, you are literally the opposite of remedial. Plus, you might like it; the people are really nice here. Well…at least I've heard." She offered a sheepish shrug. "I've actually never cared enough to try it out; but, you know."

Blair groaned.

"And, hey, remember, Mr. Charlesworth said they just got a new, amazing tutor. You should be in good hands."

"Fine," Blair said with a long-suffering sigh. "But you should stay out here. No reason to put shame on us both."

Serena sent her a skeptical glance, which she ignored, before Blair mustered her strength, pushed open the door, and…there he was. Of course.

"Humphrey?" she squeaked.

Dan sent her an equally surprised look from behind the desk. "Blair?" He blinked.

"What are you doing here?" They asked at once. Then they glowered at each other.

"_Well…_" Dan said with much annoyance. "I _work_ here. You know 'work'; that thing the commoners have to do?"

Blair felt her cheeks slowly and hotly burn as she remembered all the times she'd mercilessly teased him about being poor and uncultured and utterly unfit to attend St. Jude's. And, now here she was, at _his_ mercy.

"Well," Dan said again. He was staring at her in bewilderment. "Can I help you?"

"No," Blair said reflexively. "Not in any conceivable way."

Dan bristled. "Okay, now I get it. You just came in here to what? Make fun of me? Because some of us actually need to work to make ends meet?"

Her cheeks pinked again, but she couldn't relent. "Basically," she chirped and then hurried out of the room.

Outside the door, Serena was waiting for her on a bench. The blonde regarded her with a quizzical look as she sprinted from the tutoring center. "You're done already?"

Blair grasped Serena's arm in a rough motion, pulling her from her from seat.

"It's time for Plan B."

"What's plan B?" Serena asked.

"Anything but this."

* * *

"Your father's going to be so proud of you," Eleanor was gushing at the dinner table that night. "You've got your new, _thousand dollar dress_, and by the time he arrives I'm sure you'll already be inducted into the Widmore Honor Society."

"Mhmm," Blair mumbled.

Eleanor smiled at her and Blair offered her own, grimacing grin in return. As usual, her mother was choosing the worst possible moment to be supportive.

"Top of your class again," Eleanor said, sweetening her tea, "Surely Yale awaits."

More like community college awaits, Blair thought glumly, or prison. Or, god forbid, Brooklyn. Speaking of which, Dan was there, as usual, discussing something with Dorota in the kitchen for the event next week. Somehow, just the thought of him being there made it that much worse.

"May I be excused?" Blair asked.

"Before dessert?" Eleanor asked. "It's…"

"Another Humphrey specialty," Dan said, coming into the kitchen, because…of course.

He entered with two trays of dessert and that obnoxious "charming" grin of his. Blair rolled her eyes and huffed.

"My dad made some samples for the event, so you can choose."

"And how nice of you to come all the way out of the depths of Brooklyn to deliver them," Blair said sarcastically.

Dan ignored her and set the first tray in front of Eleanor. The food looked delicious, which aggravated Blair even more.

"Dorota was a little busy, so I thought I'd help out," Dan said.

"It's her _job _to be busy," cried Blair, "That's why we pay her."

"We?" Eleanor snorted. She sent Blair an incredulous look before turning back to Dan. "Thank you, Daniel. These look scrumptious. I don't know how I'll pick."

"Personally," Blair said, "I'd prefer whichever ones your infected, peasant hands haven't touched."

"_Blair,"_ Eleanor chided.

Her voice was sharper than usual and even Dan, who was usually relatively unflappable (if not somewhat annoyed by Blair), stiffened. His face reddened and his eyes were unreadable as he left the dinning room.

"Could you be any ruder?" Eleanor hissed after he'd exited.

"What? I was just making conversation."

Blair folded her arms defensively. Yes, she'd been harsher than she meant to be, but he was so annoying and he was always _everywhere_ and she was failing math while he was a tutor for goodness sake_._

Eleanor sighed and shook her head. "Well, you can continue conversing with yourself. You're excused."

She offered her another quick wave of the hand and Blair left the table with a scowl.

* * *

When she made it to her bedroom, Dan was waiting for her, his back pressed to her door and staring at the ground.

For a moment she was startled into silence, because as much as they were forced to interact with each other on a daily basis, it was rare that they met voluntarily, especially in each other's personal space. Blair arched a curious brow as Dan straightened and came near to her.

"What is your problem?" he asked.

"You mean besides _you?_ And what are you even doing back here?" She lifted her chin. "We're not having a 'play date' tonight, if that's what you expected."

She marched past him, making sure that her shoulder knocked against his, when, much to her chagrin, he caught her elbow and turned her back to him.

"Why are you acting even bitchier than usual?"

"_Excuse me?_"

She yanked her arm back and glared sharply at him, but he didn't back down. He took another step towards her and started ticking off points on his fingers.

"First, you come to my school job for no discernible reason save to humiliate me…"

"You humiliate yourself."

"And then you treat me like even more of a pariah than usual at dinner tonight, like it wasn't embarrassing enough to have to serve you like a maid…"

"You _are_ my maid."

"And then you don't even want dessert—"

"What does that have do with….wait, are you-" She blinked, her back straightening as she inspected his gaze."…are you _worried _about me?"

Dan scoffed, his face the picture of indignation as he finally stepped back. "Please, get over yourself."

"Fine. Right after you _get_ out of my room."

"Fine."

"Fine!"

He began marching toward the door, Blair's hands helping as they shoved at his back, when suddenly the universe laughed at her and he knocked into her desk, sending her tutoring forms flying to the floor.

"That…" Blair blushed as she snatched the paper from the ground. "That's for Serena."

"Right," Dan said slowly. "That's why _you_ were the one who came into the tutoring center today."

He was staring at her then, with that stupid knowing look, and Blair's face pinched with aggravation.

"Wait a second," Dan said, "_You're_ the C student Mr. Charlesworth referred to me?"

Blair stiffened. "He called me a C student?"

"Well…" Dan blinked. "You have a C, don't you?"

"That's not the point!"

Dan blinked again, his head titling in bemusement, when suddenly he began _laughing_, of all things. Blair straightened and then promptly smacked him in the chest.

"This is _not_ funny, Humphrey."

"I'm…I'm sorry." He tried, only somewhat successfully, to remove the amusement from his face. "But, seriously, do you even _know_ what a C is? I mean, you're Blair Waldorf."

"And you are a troll; so could you please go back to living under your bridge in Brooklyn?"

"Blair," Dan started.

But she was already shoving him towards the door again. This time she'd nearly thrust him outside, when he suddenly pulled away.

"Don't you think you're overreacting a little?" Dan asked. "I mean, I don't really see what the big deal is."

"Of course you don't, you're an idiot."

"Waldorf." He said it in that way that he often did, like he was speaking to a small child; and there were very few things that agitated her more. "Calm down. It's not like you actually have to worry about getting in anywhere-"

Blair bristled. "Why do you pretend like you know anything about me just because we had a few dozen play dates when we were kids and you're a maid at my house?"

Dan's cheeks reddened and he stiffened, but he was silent as she went on.

"I've worked for everything I've gotten at Constance; I've earned it. I know you couldn't possibly understand that."

"Right," Dan said, "Because I just 'legacied' my way into St. Jude's."

"No. You're a scholarship trophy. No one questions why you're there, Humphrey—save for your shoes and utter lack of social graces." Dan rolled his eyes. "Everyone questions why I'm there: if it's because of my parents or my money; so I have to prove it—all the time, which is exhausting. And-and daddy's coming into town for this stupid Honors ceremony and I probably won't even be a part of it or get into my dream school or anything I planned, so excuse me, if it _bothers me _just a little that I'm failing at life right now!"

She finished in a huff, her face flushed and her body stiff and her toes nearly touching his she'd stepped so close to him. Dan watched her for a long, silent moment, his eyes not glaring like hers, but full of inquiry and another emotion she couldn't quite place.

"Are you finished?" He finally whispered.

"Not even close!" She cried.

She stomped towards the door and held it up open for him, gesturing for him to leave. "So would you please just go?"

When Dan didn't leave, but—for some god-forsaken reason—looked as if he was set on staying, Blair demanded, "_Why_ are you still standing there?"

Dan opened his mouth to respond, but then simply sighed and walked out of her room.

* * *

Blair was halfway through her Calc homework, (which still made zero sense), when he returned. She knew it was him without even having to open door because he always knocked three times, like some weird OCD ritual.

Blair let out a long, frustrated breath before walking to the door and flinging it open.

"What part of 'leave me alone' do you not—?"

He'd brought her Danishes.

And, it had been, god, _years _since either of them had done something like that; so immediately, almost in spite of herself, she softened.

She took them suspiciously, but without a word.

"Let me help you, Biscuit."

"_No_," she hissed. Her cheeks spiked with red. "And, I told you never to call me that again. "

"Blair," he said again. But this time it was softer, almost careful. "You are freakishly and dangerously and sometimes meanly intelligent. So you should be smart enough to know that it's okay to need help every, you know, _once_ in a decade."

She folded her arms across her chest, shielding herself from the thawing effect his words were having on her.

But, Dan seemed to sense an opening and offered her a small, kind smirk. "Plus, I could use the cash."

"Of course you could," she said almost instinctively. "Have you seen your loafers?"

Dan snorted, his face reflecting only a touch of aggravation, before he said, "We'll start on Saturday."

Blair didn't answer, which she trusted Dan had learned was as close to explicitly accepting his help as she would get, and Dan sent her a slight nod of understanding. He took a few steps from her doorway, before suddenly turning back and regarding her.

"And, uh Blair…?"

She shifted the plate of Danishes in her arms. "Hmm?"

"I know what you did."

Blair furrowed her brows. "What? 'Last Summer?'"

Dan chuckled. But his voice was low, sincere when he replied. "No. I meant with the Chuck thing."

She felt her cheeks color, her eyes widening in surprise. The night had been weird enough without adding the awkwardness of that bizarre burst of protective insanity. She watched with discomfort as Dan ducked his head.

"Honestly, it was probably the only reason I didn't transfer out."

Blair straightened. Then she looked him in the eye and spoke firmly. "A, I don't even know what you're talking about. And, B, you should never let that Basstard, of all people, dictate your life. He probably won't even make it to graduation without dying of venereal disease or-or from stupidity."

As she finished, Dan was watching her with a strange, unreadable gaze. "Do we have to keep speaking in code," he asked, "Or can I just say 'thank you?'"

Blair brushed the hair from her shoulders and offered a 'hmmpf", making Dan laugh.

"Okay," he said. "Code it is. Let's just say I owe you one."

"Pfft. You owe me hundreds, Humphrey."

"Glad to know you can at least count—I'll have something to work with."

His teeth flashed, his eyes lit like he was trying to do that "charming" grin, and…well, it wasn't _as_ annoying as usual.

"You better not suck at this," Blair said.

Then she closed the door with the faintest hint of a smile on her lips.


End file.
